


A Cold Night

by ifallinlovetooeasily



Category: Maeve Wiley - Fandom, MaevexOtis, Milburn, Otis Milburn - Fandom, Sex Education (TV), wiley
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 05:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifallinlovetooeasily/pseuds/ifallinlovetooeasily
Summary: Maeve never realized she had feelings for Otis. One nutella covered sweater changes her mind.





	A Cold Night

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first maeve/otis fic. Hope you like it. This is as canon as possible (until the kiss part of course :) lol)

The night is cool. A little bit too cool. Otis and I are walking in silence, crossing the bridge that leads in the direction of both of our houses. The breeze blowing across the water below, makes it feel even colder than it actually is. I press my arms tightly into my chest, my sunflower mini-dress providing me with no warmth. All of a sudden Otis starts talking again. “What’re you going to tell Jackson.” My heart sinks a little bit as I remember the way I ran out of his house earlier this evening without saying goodbye. I freaked out. His parents were expecting someone good enough for their son, not some fuck up with an even more fucked up family. They must hate me. Even worse, Jackson must hate me. I pick at my nail nervously as I try to come up with a clever retort to hide my sadness. “Diarrhea attack,” I say finally with a laugh. He looks at me and chuckles. “God,” he says in mock exasperation. He’s still smiling. I laugh again, but this time it fades into a new thought. “He’s never going to speak to me again, is he?” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice, but it still peeks through. I wrap my arms around myself again trying to warm myself up. After a moment, Otis responds, “Why didn’t you say goodbye?” He’s therapizing me. But I guess I need that right now. I pick at a scab on my arm as I think of the answer. “ I guess,” I pause for a moment trying to grasp at the right words, to make me seem like less of an ass. “I guess; I was letting him off the hook,” I continue. I look up at Otis. I’m wearing a sad smile on my face. He looks at me with sympathetic eyes and a soft smile. “They’re not going to want their golden boy dating someone like me anyway, so...” I pause again, this time taking a deep breath before I continue, trying to prepare him, and maybe even myself for what I am about to say. "Why go through the fake stuff,” I finish quickly. I look down at my hands, which have drifted back together. I’m picking at my nails again. An awful nervous habit. Otis looks at me, then out into the distance. “Well.” He clears his throat. “If you don’t open yourself up you’ll never find ou-.” I don’t even let him finish. I already know what he’s going to say, and right now, I don’t want to hear him therapize me anymore. “No.” I glance up at him. “No more therapy. Okay?” Before I can even finish, he interrupts. “What? Ohh, ohhh. I’m sorry,” He says quickly. He apologizes sincerely, in his Otis-y way. I look at him and smile a little bit, a cocky, I’ve told you this before smile. He coughs again. I rub my hands up and down my arms, a feeble attempt at heating myself up, but this time, Otis notices. “You all right?” He looks at me. "I’ve got a jumper," he says and he pulls his bag off his shoulder, already reaching for the sweater. I cock my head to the side and smile a little bit. “So chivalrous,” I say almost sarcastically, but not quite. It is chivalrous, and quite sweet, actually. He laughs a little at my response, still reaching to pull the jumper out of his bag. “Actually, there is a bit of Nutella on it, so... not really,” He says this sarcastically. I fight a bit to keep a smile off my face, maintaining my usual sarcastic expression, although this time it is a feeble attempt at mocking him. He hands it to me. Even though I truly am thankful for his gesture, I can't help but reply with a little bit of humor. "Great," I respond in a jokingly dry manner. I fumble with the sweater trying to find the right way to put it on. He turns to me, attempting to reach his hands forward to help me but eventually he gives up and settles for watching me put it on. In the distance, there is a soft hoot of a far off owl. I pull the sweater over my head, tousling my hair. I brush it out of my face with one sweater covered brush of a hand, but it falls right back where it was. He reaches out and tucks the hair behind my ear. My whole body tingles when he touches me. I begin to notice small details. Like, for example, the sweater smells like Otis. I hadn’t noticed that he had a particular smell, but he does. It’s gentle and sweet, but still masculine. Nor had I noticed the way that he smiles when he's nervous, which he is doing now. He adjusts his bag on his shoulder and switches his weight from one foot to the other. I stretch my arms out to my sides like a child, the sleeves hanging a couple centimeters off the end of my hands. "Why are you're arms so freakishly long." I try to say casually with a playful smile, but it comes out in a flirtatious manner. I didn't intend for it to come out that way, but it did, and for some reason, I don't hate the idea of flirting with him. He looks at both of my arms then hastily replies, "They're not." Then, as though he suddenly picked up the flirtatious tone I had accidentally projected, he says, "Roll up your sleeves you fool," A soft teasing smile creeping onto his face that I just can't help but imitate. He reaches for one of my sleeves and starts to roll it up for me, almost aggressively. I giggle softly and he chuckles in response. Once he's done with the first one, I reach my other hand towards him and say quietly, in a childish tone, "this one." As he's rolling up my sleeves, he slowly creeps closer to me. I can feel his warm breath on my face. The smell of his clean mint breath relaxing me. The distance between us is quickly closing. Whether or not he is doing it intentionally, I do not know. I start to feel a strange rush of emotion, something that I thought I had never felt for him, or something that I had maybe just suppressed. I gaze up at Otis. He stands about 10 centimeters taller than me. His brown hair mussed in an endearing way. He's fixated on rolling up my sleeves with care. It's cute, the way that he's focuses so intently on a detail to make me happy. I continue to watch him, my eyes drifting from his own, down to his lips and back. Finally, once he's done, he notices me staring. As though he is trying to ignore it, he looks back down again, at his hand, that is holding mine tenderly. He smiles, but I look at him seriously, not breaking eye contact. I want him to know how I feel, and I want him to share the feeling. I want there to be an us. A me and him. Once again I shift my eyes down towards his lips, trying to subtly let him know that I want him to kiss me, right here, right now. Somehow, we inch closer towards each other, our noses almost touching. All of a sudden he jumps back nervously, pulling his hands away from mine and almost yelling. "Uhhh, I'm uhhh virgin." I turn away and laugh. Then look back at him nervously. "What?" I say genuinely confused. "I'm a virgin, I just thought you might want to know," He says again. He takes a deep breath. I can tell that he is about to start rambling. "I'm not experienced, not like you. I just-" I cut him off by grabbing his hands. He looks down at them nervously. "Why do you think I would care? Also, who said we were having sex?" I laugh at my last comment. He laughs with me, but I can tell that inside he is only nervous. I sigh, then look at his lips intently again. I step a little bit closer to him until our lips are almost touching. "Kiss me you fool," I say quietly, almost whispering it into his lips. He leans in slowly, very softly and cautiously pressing his lips into mine, as though I am going to pull away in disgust. My eyelids flutter shut. He presses into my lips a bit more, but still, he kisses me gently. I wriggle my hands away from his and reach up to wrap them around his neck. His arms hang in the air awkwardly. He seems to not know where to put them, or maybe he's too shy to just put his hands on my waist. I pull away from the kiss for a moment. His eyes open and he looks alarmed that I pulled away. I smile reassuringly then I gently lift my arms off from around his neck. I take hold of his wrists and place his hands on my waist. He smiles relieved, then moves his arms a bit more so that he is wrapping them around me and pulling me even closer than before. I put my hands back around his neck, then he leans towards me and kisses me again, this time more confidently. We stand there on the bridge, the breeze blowing around us, his arms wrapped around me, and our lips pressed together for an unknown amount of time. Finally, I smile into the kiss and part my lips from his, without broadening the space between us. I look into his eyes. He starts mumbling something. I press my index finger over his mouth, quieting him. He smiles playfully. I return the smile, then kiss him once more, this time quickly. "You want to come home with me, just for a bit?" I ask. He nods, then moves away from me a bit, reaching for my hand and lacing our fingers together. It all feels so natural, being here, next to him, and kissing him. There's just something about us. We just fit, because we are exact opposites. We walk hand in hand, across the bridge, and towards my house. I look up at him every once and a while, and stop to kiss him again, as though I might forget what his soft lips feel like. I could not have imagined a more perfect moment with him or anybody else.


End file.
